Nights and Mornings
by BlackCanine
Summary: The story of a bosmer who was (un)lucky enough to be a member of the Dark Brotherhood. What could've happen, if the world of Nirn had a little more logic (thuswise: sligtly AU). I will gladly accept any critics. Every chapter is named after its soundtrack.
1. Opus Of The Black Sun

_Welcome to the Arena!_  
_Are you brave, bold and strong?_  
_Are you quick, nimble and cunning?_  
_Are you smart, provident and bright?_  
_Welcome to the Arena!_  
_We are always eager to see some fresh meet and pay you in gold!_  
_Come see Owyn in the Bloodworks for more information._

_Or are you too much of a coward?_

The Black Horse Courier smelled of typographic paint. I quickly look through other open jobs: architect's apprentice, poison tester, maid, personal silversmith, bodyguard, librarian, bodyguard… _Nah. Well, and I ain't a coward!_

When I was a kid, I visited the Arena with my dad once. Mom would've killed us, if she knew. But notwithstanding that rows of spectators were high above the fighting pit I saw little of the show itself, because I was too small to see anything past the crowd sitting before us, damn bet on the Yellow Team and lost our money, Ah, Mom would've killed us for sure.

The head was aching mercilessly. A mucky voice reached me somewhere from the right. The sound of it felt like a lead hammer to my poor ears.

"Ha, awoke, at last! Well now, a pretty little Wood Elf. You're a little far from the forest, huh?" I looked around. It was a dirty cell with a small window far above. _A prison? Marvelous._ There was a moth eaten straw mattress, a chair, a table and a crock in my cell. _Water!_ Seemed like my mind was able to produce only short and simple sentences at that moment. But, alas, the crock was empty. "Looks like your days of woodland frolicking have come to a tragic end!"

I sighed and rubbed my temples trying to concentrate and still pain between them. I saw a Dunmer in the cell across the corridor. "What?" My mouth was dry and I could scarcely stir my tongue.

"Are you deaf, dearie?" He was scanty and vomicose. "Deaf and unlucky, I see now. Not as lucky as the fella from that cell!" The Dunmer pointed to the cell to the right of me and started giggling hysterically. _Lunatic?_ His voice became louder, "That one, oh, he was important! Left the prison with the Emperor himself!" He grabbed the bars of the door of his cell, shoved his head between them and continued, eyes wide, "But you are just like me, just like me!" _Lunatic. _"You, dear little Valenwood wench, will go mad pretty soon, and the guards will cut your throat just to stop the ranting. That's right. You're going to die in here, Wood Elf! Die! Rot, like one of the leaves in your precious forests!"

"Oh, fuck you." I snapped.

"Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming… for you!" The Dunmer made a chocking sound and released the bars.

A guard came, indeed. A youngster, no older then me, with ridiculous tiny ginger moustache.

"Sod! How awful to see you, pathetic scrib!" the Dunmer clenched the bars once again and started to yank them. "I asked for a hussy, so why did you put her in the different room, huh?! Answer me!" _A hussy? The longer I stay here, the better I feel._

"Shut it, Valen!" Sod jabbed dunmer's hands with a torch. Valen howled and whisked off to the stony wall spitting curses. I wondered if the young guard was a dick or Valen really had it coming. _Probably both. _Paying no attention to dunmer's cussing Sod approached my cell.

"How are you feeling, booze hag?" He put the torch to an empty cradle, sat on a small stool and put out a quill, an inkwell and a piece of parchment from a small bag on his belt.

"Booze hag? At least I'm not named Sod!" Being a little more affable might have been useful, though. But I couldn't help it. Sod? Really? Who in Oblivion would name their son _Sod_?

"I'm Sodius." He said irritatingly.

"Nice to know. And I almost thought your parents had a _sodden_ sense of humor." Who's the queen of bad puns? Me!

"Listen, lady, do you even have any idea why are you here?"

I really had none. "Enlighten me."

"You started a drunken brawl in _The Foaming Flask …_"

_Where is it?_

"… Broke Ernest Manis' nose …"

_Who is he?_

"… And nearly set the place on fire."

_Yay, what a nice way to start a life in a big city._

"It is called "drunken debauchery" and you will stay here for a week. We searched through your belongings and found nothing about your identity. So now it's your turn to enlighten me. Name?"

"Brook." I blurted the first thing had come to my mind. It was my sister's nickname. Sod wrote it.

"Just Brook? Any surname?"

"Mally!" Ugh, a hangover was not the best time to make up any names or surnames.

"Race?"

"Argonian."

"You're not an Argonian."

"And you're not blind. Oh, you are?" I gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any disrespect." Yes, yes, I knew he's an authority, but gods, did he really need to ask my race?

"Watch your tongue. Age?"

I've always looked younger then I really was. _Maybe guards will take a pity on me, if they think I'm just a child?_

"Fifteen." Fifteen my ass. Twenty one, in fact.

"So young and so impudent? Where are your parents?" _Most likely somewhere in the woods hunting._

"Dead."

"Well then, Brook Mally, considering your age we can't keep you here."_Hurray! _"We will send you to an orphanage." _You what?!_

"Oh, but you can't! I have a contagious disease. Look!" I showed him my wrist with a cluster of small scars. I fell to a rockfill several years ago. "Timber smallpox!" _Does this illness even exist?_

"Get her away from me!" Valen gave a voice.

"I have more!" I started to peel off my pants.

"Enough!" Sod put writing implements back into his bag and stood up. "Wait here for our decision." And he left the dungeon.

_Well, fuck._

Valen began to mutter something. Now when my mind was more or less clear (however, a glass of water wouldn't hurt) I was able to take a proper look at this rotten hole. The dungeon itself was rather spacious, with a wide corridor and cells on both sides. Strange, but it seemed like me and Valen were the only prisoners here. Although I didn't have time to wonder about it, because Sod returned, this time with another guard.

" … And, Sodius, I told you I don't care! She could have all fatal diseases in Nirn, she's out of our jurisdiction unless she's sixteen. They have healers there." A tall Nord woman with a tired expression on her face showed up. "There you are, damsel. Pack up and shove off." She opened the door.

"Yeah, Sodius. Brook out!" I saluted him and left the cell. "Bye-bye, Valen." Some sort of plan was already in my head.

"I'll see you here again, wench!" _Sure._

I noticed that one wall of the "important prisoner"'s cell was shattered to pieces.

"Sod, she's within your responsibility, since you've started all this." We went out of the dungeon, walked along winding corridors and several short staircases. It occurred to me that our dungeon was one among many others, that might have been why there were just two of us. Finally we came to some sort of storage, a room filled with crates of all sizes. The Nord opened one of them, took out my knapsack and my bow with a loose string. I was about to check if anything was stolen, but Sod interrupted me.

"You'll be doing it later, smallpox." He almost grabbed my shoulder, but stopped abruptly. I snicked. "You see, commander, she's coughing! I'm not going anywhere near her!" The panic his voice was hilarious.

"Are you disobeying the order, young man?"

Sod went pale, "Negative."

"Good. Now out of my sight!" The Nord give him a roll of paper and waved her hand, like she was flapping flies away. Sod warily tied my hands, took my things and swiftly lead me out of the building.

"Follow me, smallpox."

The blast of wind cooled my head. I checked the knots around my wrists. They were barely fasten up. Who knew a pile of gravel would be of such use to me? We crossed the bridge, walked through the Market District and entered the Elven Gardens.

"Why on Nirn did they forbid using horses inside the city? This danged orphanage is here, in this district," said Sod.

"Wow, someone uttered a word after two hours of silence." Two hours were more than enough to untangle this poor parody of manacles around my hands.

"Shut up, smallpox."

But I agreed with him. The Imperial City was the biggest city in the province, yet everyone was obliged to move on foot here. Well apart from the Emperor and his family. And some muck-a-mucks who managed to get a licence.

The Elven Gardens was the place my plan came to force. Luckily for me, Sod decided to take a short path away from wide streets and squares. We were walking past some hen house, when I tugged the rope, doubled up and started to cough.

"Smallpox? Smallpox, come on, get up!" Sod yanked the rope and I fell to the ground, still coughing. "Damn it!" He bent to help me up. When he was close enough, I quitted hold of the rope, knocked Sod on the ground and covered his mouth. He was at least two feet higher then me, but the effect of surprise was in my corner.

"Lie still and you will live," I wrested him down with my knee, quickly tied his hands and tuck and old sock from my knapsack into his mouth. Then I took out more ropes and tied his legs as well.

Despite his desperate grunting and twisting I managed to drag him to an old shed which, apparently, belonged to a hen house owner.

"Don't you worry, Sod, they'll find you eventually." I said and closed the door.

_Phew. Now the whole Imperial Legion is after me. _I put on a cowl and a belt with a dagger and was on my way.

And now, after three days of hiding and aimless wandering I was standing in front of the Arena, clutching the Black Horse Courier in my hand. Perhaps it wasn't the most reasonable decision, considering there was a bounty on my head, but it was the most easy way to earn money. And if I had money, I would be able to pay the fine. Plus, it was _the Arena_. Only the most reckless and courageous fight here.

"So are you going to do anything, young lady?" The voice of a bookmaker broke the thread of my thoughts. "Wanna make a bet?"

"No, thanks. I just … Wish me luck."

"May Jone and Jode watch over you, sister," the bookmaker smiled. Ah, a Bosmer can always find the right words. I smiled back, took a deep breath and entered the Bloodworks.


	2. Use My Body While It s Still Youn

The Bloodworks smelled, indeed, of blood. Or maybe it was just iron and I was too easily impressed back then.

Past the Arena posters, past the long hall, past the training area, Owyn was sitting in the center of his own kingdom of slaughter and glory. He looked like he was in his early fifties, all stern and spiky. He gave me a cold glance and spat:

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you've got about ten seconds to tell me what you're doing in my Bloodworks before I lop your arms off."

"I'm here to fight." The words that I'd been repeating to myself dozens times for the last three days were finally out.

I wasn't ready for response, though. Owyn began to guffaw.

"You what? You want to be a combatant?" He was slamming his knees in attempts to stop laughing. "Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she's dead!" Suddenly the Redguard got solemn. "Wait, you're serious, aren't you?" I nodded. "What is it with you people? You walk in here, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up decorating my Red Room. How old are you, girl?"

_Ugh, another one._

"Twenty one."

"Twenty one, she says. Hmph. Go to you Ma and Pa, grow up and then we'll talk."

"Damn it, give it a rest! Do you see this earring?" I pointed to the copper trinket dangling from my left ear. "I'm already engaged!" Of course, I wan't. Marriage was the last thing I would ever want. Usually I worn the earring to ward off any unpleasant wooers (not that I had many). From what I knew only Bosmers use such earrings as a sign of a betrothal, but I was relieved to find out that most of non-Bosmeri men understand it, too.

"Then go home to your lovely prick!"

"He's dead." _Oh, why do I have to lay to rest everyone to get what I want?_ "I want to fight in his honour."

"Oh, whatever. I can't let you fight since you look like a darn kid." _I should've put on make-up._ "Blue team is not that desperate."

"Wait, can't I at least choose a team? I wanted to fight for the Blue team from the very start, but …"

"You are stupid, aren't you? If you want to fight for the yellows, go talk to Sipen." _But the newspaper had only one name in it. What the fuck?_

"Nevermind. I will win. And when I do, it will humiliate them, to be defeated by the darn kid."

"And if you loose?" He scratched his chin.

"I will cover my face."

"All right. It's your funeral." Owyn sighed. "Welcome to the Arena, you filthy Pit Dog. You are free to fight, so long as you know the rules of competition."

The rules were quite simple and soon, covering my face and head with a scarf and wearing an old Light Raiment, I was standing before a lattice door. No one from the Blue Team had talked to me, I just had noticed an encouraging smile from some Dunmer and a few miserable looks from the others.

"Good people of the Empire! Welcome to the Arena!" A thunderlike voice sliced the silence. Or maybe I became deaf because of fluster. _I'm not afraid. Do you understand that you will have to kill a person now?_ Up until that moment I had thought of my opponent as of some kind of game. _She is a person and a game._

"Today we will watch the first fight of two brand new Pit Dogs!"

From the looks of it the other Bosmer girl was standing behind the opposite gates, but I wasn't sure. She was carrying something long, a spear or a sword._It's you or her, do you understand?_ Suddenly my scarf became stuffy. _You might be dead in some minutes, idiot. But I will not. She thinks the same, you imbecile._

"Let the battle begin!"

I kissed my Jone and Jode amulet, the one the Bosmer bookmaker had noticed, and drawed the bow. _I'm not afraid._

"Lower the gates!"

_Why didn't Owyn make me sign any papers? Shouldn't they keep a track of fighters? _The rusty squeaking gates opened. The crowd above burst into multitudinous roar. _Imagine how loud they are when Gladiators fight._ I slowly entered the pit. The yellow girl yelled something, longsword at the ready. I was standing still and aiming at a narrow lumiere of her helmet. _Come a little closer, bitch. What I'm doing here is self-defense and earning money. I will buy that ivory hairband, when I win. And the best Colovian brandy. Concentrate, dumbass._ _She's the game. _It was rather easy to believe considering there was a fully armed swordsman a stone's throw from me wishing to kill me right now. _One more step … And …_ I fired.

The next thing I heard was the overwhelming applause. The Bosmer girl was lying in the dirt, the arrow stuck in her eye socket. _Just like that?_

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!"

_That's all? _I had been thinking about killing someone for years. Not sure when it had started. It was some sort of a fixed idea. Not out of cruelty, I was simply curious. Very curious. I hadn't told anyone about it, of course. Perhaps, Meg was the only person whom I could tell.

"All hail the combatant from the Blue team!"

_What do they do to make his voice so loud? Some kind of magic?_ I was standing there, trying to ease the panting. There wasn't a single fluke of wind on this hot Sun's Height morning. So it happened. I did kill her. Even legally. And I felt nothing. No guilt, no pleasure, no shame, no joy. My head was empty.

"Victor from the Blue team, leave the Arena now and rest! You've earned that!"

Instead I walked to the center of the pit, torn off the scarf and sent an arrow straight in the sky. _Thanks._ The spectators went insane..

Albeit I didn't have any wounds, the basin under the Arena helped me in coming to my senses. I squeezed the edges of the old reservoir, closed my eyes and leaned over it. The wave of magic was a like a gulp of fresh cold water that cleared my mind. All at once I felt disappointment because this kill didn't trigger any emotions I had expected. _Hello, I've just killed someone! Heart? Brain? Any response to that?_ Alas, I stayed strangely indifferent. But on the other hand I felt relief: now I knew I wasn't built for killing. My parents would've never approved my carrier at the Arena. Not that we had perfect relationships, but I didn't want to let them down. I just had to check.

After receiving a meager portion of fifty septims I gave the Raiment back to Owyn, bid him farewell and left the Bloodworks forever.

The weather was perfect. There wasn't a single cloud in the azure sky. _Never seen a bluer sky._ I had no idea what to do next, so I bought a meat pie near the Arena and took a meaningless stroll around the City. Eventually I found myself in the Arboretum: a giant garden with the statues of the Nine Divines. A familiar advertisement, pinned to a curtain wall, captured my attention. At first I mistook it for the Arena's spiel, but after a closer look it turned out to be something different.

_Welcome to the Cyrodiil Arts Academy!_  
_Are you slim, fragile and gaunt?_  
_Are you soft, curvy and chubby?_  
_Are you athletic, strapped and muscular?_  
_Welcome to the Cyrodiil Arts Academy_  
_(which is in need of new models)!_  
_We are always eager to see some fresh meet and pay you in gold!_  
_Come see Sanctanar in the Turquoise hall, CAA, Arboretum for more information._

Seeing almost the same text was irritating. _Oh gods, and they call themselves artists when they can't even make up their own ad? _Despite the pique I kept looking at the ad for no apparent reason. _I've never heard of this Academy. _

"Hey!" Someone touched my shoulder. I almost choked over the pie. "Oh, sorry!" I turned and saw a Breton or Imperial girl about my age. She was blond and covered with freckles. "Are you thinking about working in our Academy?"

"Your Academy?"

"Yeah, well, I'm a student. An aspiring artist." She looked down at a huge folder under her armpit. "I've been examining you for several minutes already, and you seem like a wonderful data. So?" The aspiring artist tiled her head.

"It's so nice to know I've been stalked." _Really, who does she think she is?_

"I'm so, so sorry!" She put her hands together, "I didn't mean for it to look like that!" The girl seemed genuinely ashamed. She clumsily put her enormous folder on the ground and took out a notebook from her bag. "I made some sketches; they're yours, if you want."

The drawings were really good. This was me eating my pie, this was me reading the ad… I swallowed the last piece of the pie.

"Wow, they're beautiful." I was about to look at other pictures, but she promptly plucked the notebook from my hands.

"Sorry, the rest is personal."

"Oh, excuse me." I watched her as she put the notebook inside her shapeless motley bag. Her cheeks were burning.

"I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Lilian, Lilian Venio."

"Sarynancy Cougar. Nice to meet you." We shook hands.

"That's an unusual name for a bosmer! Did you pick it yourself?" _Unusual, is it? More like "were your parents high when they gave it to you?"_

"And you're finesse itself."

"Oh! Pardon!" Lilian covered her mouth, blushing.

_She's like a little beastie, annoying, but sweet._

"My grandfather is Imperial, you see." I reflexively touched my ear. Blasted ears! Of all my siblings, only me and my brother Tesion had this not-pointy-enough shit instead of ears.

"I know how it feels, Nance!" _Nance? _Lilian smacked me on the shoulder, "My great-great-great grandma was an Altmer. Or is it great-great-great-great grandma?"

"I got the point."

"Yeah. So … " She started a long chit-chat about the Academy, and her plans, and some painting technique and her boyfriend Mantivo. I found myself walking beside Lilian towards the Academy. We stopped in front of the massive building. It was new, but built in the same white-stone style as the rest of the city.

"I guess it's time to say goodbye." I still had to find a new job and didn't want to waste my time anymore.

"Oh, Nance, please! Tell me you have no job now! We could really use someone like you! Most of our models are … old." She gave me this you-know-what-I-mean look.

_Maybe I really could try it? Yes, and show my far from perfect naked body to a bunch of total strangers. Oh, is it fear? If you're afraid of something that simple how are you going to achieve anything? _So I frowned and said, "Use my body while it's still young. How's the money?"

Lilian clasped me in her arms. "You're in! I have no idea about money, you should ask Sanctanar."

After a brief talk with Sanctanar the Altmer I signed the papers and proceeded to business straightaway. He put me to Lilian's class at the first session. She was ecstatic. At least I was allowed my have my undies on. Standing still for several hours turned out to be difficult even with my hunting experience of hider. Lilian introduced me to her beloved Mantivo. He was a sculptor at the Academy and very full of himself. When Lilian found out I got nowhere to live she suggested living with her, since her "folks were dancing on the green", whatever that was supposed to mean.

And so the week filled with stripping before strangers and bending my body and limbs at all possible angles passed. It was a pleasant Fridas evening. I was coming to Lilian's place (calling it "home" after a week of living there seemed stupid) when I heard a noise from a narrow back alley just near her house. Some sobs and sniffs. I sneaked past the crates that blocked the view and saw Lilian pinned to the wall by some man.

"Come on, don't be a bitch and hold still, lass," he said and hit her. A surge of recognition went through my body. _DON'T YOU DARE._ The boiling blinding fury filled me. Without pausing to think I rushed forward. Lilian's eyes widened when she saw me. My moves were automatic. I unsheathed my dagger, jumped on the man and cut his throat. All this happened is a second or two. The man uttered his last gasp and fell on the ground.

Memories gushed through my mind. A bandit raid on our village. Fire. Mother shouting me to hide. A thug breaking into our house and trying to rape her. And me, growling and howling like a wounded beast, killing him the very same way.

"Nance! Nance!" Lilian shook my shoulders. Her eyes were red. I was shivering. She helped me to get up. I felt twangs of conscience. My calamity was long gone, while hers just has happened.

"Oh, Lilian, are you alright?" I hugged her with shaking hands.

"Could be worse. Nance, he … " And she started crying. I patted her on the head and looked around. Seemed like no one had seen us.

"Lilian, honey, the sooner we leave this alley, the better." The man was lying in a pool of blood. _Where have I seen his ugly conk?_ I cut his purse for the killing to look like a robbery.

"Yes, yes, you're right." She sniffled and we quickly got inside the house.

The man's name was Nikolas Aegismoss. He was the artist of the Emperor's family and one of the heads of Academy. _That's where I might have seen him._He threatened Lilian with expulsion if she didn't agree to have sex with him. That's all I was able to discern through her weeping. I had to end our cuddling to make her tea and get her into the bed. Even when she managed to more or less restrain herself, the tears were still running down her face.

"Where did you learn to kill people like that?"

"I did it before." What else could I say? I was still recollecting myself. _How could I forget something that significant? Why my parents have never talked to me about it? How old I was back then? Nine? Ten?_

"Oh, okay." Thankfully, she didn't ask any more questions about my "skills".

When she fell asleep, I went downstairs to have a drink. I needed something stronger than tea. Surilie Brothers wine seemed more appropriate. My mother warned me about not drinking alone, or else it could become a habit. Mother. I saved her, didn't I? That's when my thoughts about killing might have started, after that bandit raid.

_What else don't I remember? How many people have I killed in my past?_ However, most likely, this was the only accident.

Unwittingly, after drinking only a goblet of wine, I crumped right at the table. My dreams were filled with fires and stomping. All of a sudden I felt like a freezing, yet very gentle hand grasped my heart. I flinched and woke up.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer. That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."


	3. Tomorrow Never Knows

**The Beatles – Tomorrow Never Knows**

The chair fell as I startled and pointed my dagger at an intruder. Groggy, I nearly fell myself. The man didn't budge. He was dressed in a long black cloak, a cowl covered his face. He didn't seem hostile.

"Who is Oblivion are you?" I stepped back.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls." His voice was calm. "Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity … to join our rather unique family." It sounded like a memorized speech.

I raise an eyebrow and blinked. "What? Is it some kind of joke?" Really, the nerve of these people. "Did Mantivo send you?" Mantivo was self-appointed king of pranks. "Seriously, man, it's not the best time for your monkey business." I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "You've really gone too far this time. The Dark Brotherhood, no kidding?" The man didn't react to words. I lit a candle, sheathed the dagger and poured wine into my goblet. "Want some?"

"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. Thanks, no."

"Suit yourself." I took a pull of Surilie. "Go on, L-whatever, what else can you tell the class? I'm listening." Let the guy go all the way, it would be a shame if he had learnt all this stuff by heart for nothing.

"So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid. Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"Luke, listen, you can't seriously ask me to kill someone?" I decided to play along. "I'm no murderer." _But I am. _

"No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grant you a gift, in case you reconsider." And he took out a dagger from the layers of his cloak. It looked very expensive. _Yeah, like one of those fake weapons made by propmen in the Academy. _"It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your causticity. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon." He put the dagger on the table.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I wasn't sure if I even should touch it. Gradually, I began to understand it was really to strong to be a prank. And my dagger was ensheathed. And I was drunk. _Great._ "I had a really rough night, then you broke into my house and now you're handling me this thing. I demand an explanation!"

"What else would you like to now?" He gave a polite smile. _I want to punch him in the face._

"This Brotherhood of yours. Tell me about it. And whom did I pleased? The Night Mother? Yeah, tell about her, too. And what's wrong with the old man?"

"Such curiosity. Good. Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you'll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father, Sithis. We are family, with bonds forged in blood and death." He gave a pause, as if he was expecting some questions. _Why does he has to use so many pretentious words?_ "The Night Mother is our Unholy Matron. From her shadowed womb we were born, from her breast we suckle malice and pain. She loves her children, you see." _What? He's a fanatic._ "Rufio has to die." The man in the black cloak sounded like he was explaining something obvious to a kid. "Know that he is old and weak, and sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he even has a chance to wake. If you so choose. And now I shall be leaving."

And the shady figure soundlessly left the house, melting in the shadows. The freezing grasp released my heart. I was just sitting numb, like a dummy, listening attentively to the sounds of night and staring in front of me. A raven croaked somewhere. I slapped a mosquito on my shoulder.

_WHAT?_I tentatively poked the dagger. However it looked too realistic and posh to be used in some dumb prank. _Holy moley, the Dark Brotherhood! By the Nine!_ I thought they were just some paranoia fantasy. _They say that when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep. It's how they recruit new members. _My head was buzzing with thoughts. I decided to get out for a walk. It was past two after midnight. Not the best time for lonely walking, but, hey, we were living almost in the centre of the City. _It's a wonder Lilian didn't wake up._ I washed my face, filled a flask with what was left in the bottle and went outside. The night was chilly for Sun's Height. Some people gathered around taverns, pubs and whorehouses, some windows were lit, few guards were keeping their watch. But mostly the big city was asleep. A usual night. I was wandering for about an hour when I discerned a motion behind a column of a luxurious house in the Temple District. I resiled and heard a laugh. A Dunmer with a broad smile appeared from behind the column.

"Did I frightened you, lady?"

"No."

"Are you afraid to walk all alone? Can I bear a company?"

"Nope." I pointed at my earring. "Goodbye."

"Wait, lady!" He tried to grip my hand. I recoiled.

"Listen, you little piece of shit, I fight at the Arena. Now leave me alone!"

But the Dunmer was tall and strong, and I, on the contrary, was still a little drunk and very tired. He wrung me, covered my mouth with a sweaty hand and dragged behind the column. I was twisting and trying to kick him. His other hand was rummaging over my body.

"Where is your money, slut?"

Somehow I managed to hit him in a groin. He bellowed, left my arm and wiped, but I eluded, draw the dagger and clutched it tightly with both hands. Now I was able to scream, cry for help or run away, but a plan in my head called for quite another actions. When he approached, I made a stab at his belly. He shrieked in pain, trying to hold his falling entrails and collapsed on the pavement. I spat of his body.

_My second kill for one night_, I thought dully. I was in haze. The blood was pumping in my ears. _He thought of himself as a hunter, but I beat him. I am the hunter. So that's what I wanted to feel at the Arena!_ The overwhelming elation in my entire body was similar to sexual arousal.

Several hours ago I'd defended Lilian. I did it for her. Now I killed for myself. It was unexpected, scary and, my mouth filled up with saliva, AWESOME. I was panting. The Arena was a huge pointless show, but this one was real.

I looked around, wiped my dagger of his shirt, cut his purse for compensation and got back to Lilian's as quickly and imperceptibly as possible.

The next day Lilian decided to stay home all day long, trying to cope with the yesterday accident. I told her nothing of my night guest and the following events of the night. She asked me to invite Mantivo, and I did it on my way to a bookshop. The _Old Pages_ was not as clean, well-lit, big and neat as the _First Edition_, but the owner of the shop, an elderly Argonian named Bashanchee was much friendlier than Phintias. I've been to the _Old Pages_several times already and I liked it just fine.

Without any hesitation I asked her to bring me everything she had on the Dark Brotherhood. While she was slowly waddling between the shelves, I kept on pondering over the man's offer. It wasn't his appearance that disturbed me the most. I was touched by that feeling of joy and dominance I felt the moment I thrust the knife into the Dunmer's stomach. I've never felt anything like that before. The sensation of killing my first prey was similar to it, but that fox wasn't of my species, right? It wasn't intelligent, right? But can I consider someone of other race as my species? So does that mean that I can slaughter any non-Bosmer person? But I killed that girl at the Arena. What about other mer? The Dunmer could be counted as my distant relative. But, Ehlnofey be remembered, we all are of the same origin.

"I've found them, Cougar!"

I almost jumped out of my skin. But it was just Bashanchee.

"Shaky, eh? Are you alright, Cougar?"

She bought me _The Brothers of Darkness_, _Sacred Witness_, _Fire and Darkness_, _Sithis_, _The Lunar Lorkhan_ and some others.

The next two weeks were spent on reading the volumes. Most of the texts were absurd dragon's dung, contradicting each other. Turn out the most reliable quarries were written by the skooma addicts. I knew I should've asked more of that man in the black cloak. It was very irritating that I forgot his name.

"Go and don't make ourselves proud of you. Instead make yourself proud of you." I remember my father saying that.

Am I making myself proud right now? I'm living in a big and relatively safe city. I have friends and a job. The average hunt bored me, so I came here seeking something new to quench my thirst for fortitude. Did I find it? Why, yes, I did.

Maybe it was a sign? _Indeed, a sign meaning I have to go and slay innocent people. _Were they really innocent? These poor men and women, girls and boys of every race and age must have done something really hefty to piss off someone who has enough money to hire a Dark Brother or Sister. And those words… What was his name? Lucan? Looseen? Oh, whatever. He said I was chosen by the Night Mother or something. I bet he says this crap every time he's trying to recruit someone. How often does he do it? How often does he get the consent? He was chosen one day, too, and look at him now: seeking quasi- recruits, such as myself, and slathering sumptuous daggers at drunk strangers. I bet he's just _delighted_ by his job. I even felt pity for him for some moments.

Even though most of the people irked me, I didn't hate them in general. But I had already spent enough lonely hours in the woods, hunting and holding debates with myself before I understood I'm okay with killing a person.

The more I was thinking about it, the less deranged the idea of killing poor Rufio seemed. _There will be no turning back. _I can't decide my and someone else's fates out of sheer boredom, can I? Could I still stay in touch with my family and Lilian here? Not that I was too close with any of them, but I wouldn't like to lose them. And if I'm so bored, maybe I should try the Fighters Guild? Or even the lately gathering steam Blackwood Company? Pshaw, I'm no warrior. I woudn't stand a day there. But the Dark Brotherhood? Now this seemed tempting. Besides, agreeing to join the paltry Fighters Guild, when you're noticed by the Brotherhood, looked pointless to me. Even invoking the Brotherhood was out of the law, but being in one… That seemed perilous _and _tempting in the same time, like it happens with almost every forbidden thing.

Maybe that man in black cloak was, indeed, a fate-bringer? Being visited by the Brotherhood made me somehow sublime in my imagining. I really doubt that they propose joining to every lousy cutthroat. Maybe that's what my father had meant?

It felt like I was living in the middle of doubt and was so difficult to decide what to do. After a month of showdown of yearning and self-depreciation I set my mind at rest. I was flurried by the major verdict and reckoned it would be better not to tell the truth to Lilian. I made up a story about the letter from my family calling me home. If only I knew how prophetic my words were.


	4. Jerk It Out

The last day in the blasted City. Finally. I liked the Imperial City fine enough, but all the stony walls and loud crowds really took their toll on someone who spent most of the life in open spaces and small villages.

The last day was devoted to the last preparations. I needed some new gear and supplies, like good marching boots, bowstrings or ingredients. For poisons, for instance. Oh yes. The past month seemed to be the most educative time in my life. I knew a little alchemy, just some basics my uncle, Julianos bless his soul, had taught me. Of course, one month was not enough to become a professional, but I tried my best. Nightshade, lotus, buttercup, peony seeds - it emerged that the poison was, in a varying degree, almost everywhere around. One just need to know where to look and what to do with the ingredients.

My knapsack was already filled with all kinds of useful shit and I still had several places to spend my money at. The wind was baying clouds, which were about to spill rain, but were dragged away before they could tear a single drop. I was walking through the labyrinth of cobbled streets, slightly jumping with every step in tune with a song that had got stuck in my head. _In the merry month of Hand…_ My humming was interrupted with an exclamation: "That's her!"

A group of men that were just fiddling about the gates to someone's garden now was approaching me. An Altmer, a Bosmer, a Dunmer and an Orsimer._What's this? A mere gang? _Ah, how I love all these sarcastics that seem funny only to me. I have flawless humor.

"So a bird told me you were hanging out near the Temple about a month ago." The Dunmer said. He was idly twisting spiky bolas. _Oh goblin's dung. Somebody saw me. _Meanwhile the other stood around me.

"Did you happen to see a Dunmer guy? You know, with a mohawk?" The Altmer waved over his head as in an attempt to explain what a mohawk is.

The Bosmer was to the left of me. "He was a buddy of ours. Now he's dead."

"Is there any chance you know why, Arena champ?" And the Orsimer took place behind.

_How much time did the rehearsal of this dramatics took? _I was standing motionlessly and trying to keep my face from smiling. You know, that kind of stupid smile that pops up in the most unsuitable situations. _Why should it happen on the day of my depart? Rufio is still breathing, while I'm here with you punks. _Four of them against me. I didn't stand a chance. _Run. _

"Answer us, Arena champ, please."

_I have to do something. How on Nirn did they know about the Arena? I have to break through them. Think, idiot, think. Oh, I got it. Meg came up with this once. Meg, sweetheart, you keep helping me even from your grave. _She once told me about a woman who was about to be raped and she yelled something like "Long live the Emperor!", and her raper was so shocked he left her alone. It was quite crazy, but worth trying. Besides, I couldn't think of anything more sensible at that moment.

I slowly raised my arms and started to twirl in some sort of delirious dance, clapping hands and shrilling at the top of my voice:

"In the merry month of Hand  
From my home I started,  
Left the boys of Haven  
Nearly broken hearted,  
Saluted father dear  
Kissed my darlin' mother…"

A window above us opened and I heard an angry female voice:

"Shut up your hole or else I'll empty my pot on you!"

Using the commotion created by my absolutely brilliant singing featuring Angry Woman From The Second Floor I threw myself at the Dunmer, swept him off feet and made for main street of the Market. Swearing and shouting, the gang followed me. My knapsack was hitting my back. It was pretty heavy. Up the street, turn right, now left, and I managed to knock down a stack of crates.

On the last on the curve I collided into a group of matrons. Someone from the gang bumped into me and yanked a lock of my hear along with my left ear, ripping them both almost off. I hollowed in pain. Fortunately, Imperial Legion guards noticed us.

"Help!" That's all I was able to squeak. _My ear! My ear! Where is my ear?! _I fitfully checked the left side of my head. My hair was wet and sticky with blood and my ear, well, it had seen better days. Attached to the scull with a narrow strip of skin, it nearly fell into my hands. I leaned over the nearest wall and tried to catch my breath and not to puke. I don't want to sound whiny, but, actually, a tiny part of me was hoping for outside assistance. All I got was some whinging old beggar. But she was no help and her lamentations were quite jarring. I dragged myself to the Healing Hand, an apothecary next to the Rindir's Staffs, sobbing and smearing bloody snot. _Maybe having short and round ears is not so bad after all._

Fortunately, the apothecary was empty. A Khajiit man, the healer, said nothing when he saw me, just gave a quick look and waved to follow him into the back-room. There he washed away the blood, sterilized the wound (I gritted my teeth to refrain from more crying) and cut the hair around the ear. _Great, now I'm bald. _He didn't ask me any questions, simply did what needed to be done. I liked that. And the next second he asked me a question:

"Quick or slow?"

"Come again?"

"The speed of healing. Quick or slow?"

"Quick, I guess." _Chances are Luke already has assigned someone else to eliminate Rufio. It's been a month, I can't waste any more time. _I gave up on my efforts to remember his name and decided to call him Luke.

The healer twitched his ears. I suppose it meant "Fine." or something like that. After some quarrying in the bookcase he dug out a scroll with a recipe. The process of making a medicine didn't take much time, he just blended several pulvis, added water (at least it looked like water) and warmed it up with a fire spell. The khajiit checked how the light shined through the potion and approached me.

"Now sit still. It's going to pinch a little,"

"Uh-huh," I mumbled. The healer carefully moved aside the hair, poured the medicine on the wound and pressed the ear against my scull. Right until that moment I had been thinking that pain of your ear almost torn off is the this was rock bottom. But this time I practically blacked out. When I managed to get rid of stars before my eyes, my head was already bandaged.

"PINCH A LITTLE?!"

"A trade secret." The khajiit gave me a proud grin. "Don't worry, cub. You asked for quick, I gave you quick." His voice sounded like a patter of tiny clawed paws. "Take off the bandages tomorrow. One hundred fifty septims." That was almost all I had, but I had to accept it. I have always hated to haggle. First of all, I had no idea how to it. Ask for a smaller price? Not that I was exactly rich myself, but the thought of appearing poor seemed very pesky to me.

"How long the slow one takes, then?" I asked counting the coins.

"A week." The door of the apothecary opened. "You must excuse me," the healer hurried off to meet another client. _A trade secret, is it? Well, no more._ I quickly slipped the scroll into my inside pocket.

The Khajiit was busy exploring some old Redguard woman's eye. Her features seemed familiar.

" … not the big deal, I think. It was just a metal rasping." She explained to him.

"I left the money on the table. Thanks," I said and the healer nodded in response.

I felt a little guilty for stealing the recipe, but all in all I owed him nothing. I mean, I payed him, didn't I? And payed a lot. You could buy a fine sword for that kind of money. Marching boots and void salts would have to wait.

The Ill Omen Inn couldn't be found on any decent map and "on the Green Road to the north of Bravil" was clearly not enough. Depending on the weather, the way from the Imperial City to Bravil could take from three to five weeks if you go on foot. Cyrodiil is a big country, after all. Perhaps the clarification of the exact place was a part of initiation test. During the month of taking a decision I spent several days asking around taverns and hash houses about the worst or most ridiculous inns' names. I thought it was some genius "sneaky" manner of information gathering, but after a while I realized that asking innholders, the main resource of rumors, was really foolish. But the things I've discovered! Goblin's Arse. Malty Rotsucker. Anu's Break. Well Smack My Volcano And Call Me Ayem. Finally I was rewarded with the location. I had no wish of spending about two weeks of all-day walking just to kill an old man. Now the only thing that stood between Rufio and me was the absence of a horse.


	5. Nobody But Me

Rumor was that there's no way to buy a horse at Chestnut Handy Stables. Some said that the owner of the stables, Snak gra-Bura, ate all the horses there. Thus the locals had to buy their horses at nearby farms. However, I decided to take a chance.

All Bosmers can talk to animals. It is a natural gift, like a talent of singing or smithing. But thanks to my Imperial granddad, in addition to my under-ears I had the lack of this gift. When my father spoke to animals and different creatures, like will-o-the-wisps, they obeyed completely. When I did the same it was like an old person with trembles trying to draw a straight line. Eventually there would be some sort of line, but not straight at all. In the course of time I figured out how to make animals execute simple commands, but it was a long way off the true mastery. The sounds, the breath and the attitude must vector a certain pattern, or else the animal will ignore you or go berserk. The smarter an animal was, the more difficult it was to control it. For example, I could easily call a fish to simply harvest it instead of catching; however, making a dog or a pig do something could be quite complicated.

I bid farewells to Lilian, humped bluey and headed for the stables. My ear was sending waves of dumb pain through my body. Maybe I should've departed on the next day, but the anticipation was too strong. Besides, I was anxious that the contract had been already given to someone else.

The horses were out in the paddock. I caught sight of a small bay mare. She was standing so close to the fence I could touch her. I focused and started to beast-talk to her.

"Hey, mavourneen," I whispered in Bosmeri. The horse raised her neb and looked at me. "You are in danger. Your masters want to kill and eat you. Your herd can't protect you." Unlike my father I never could understand their answers, but the mare's horror was obvious. She was barely breathing, eyes wide and ears set back. _Good. I got her._ "You have to run. Escape the danger. I can protect you."

"Hey, what are you doing there, elf?" A stableman must have noticed the strange horse's behavior. I saw a man in dirty green clothes approaching us.

"He won't protect you._ I_ will protect you." I turned and hastily walked away, fastening the knapsack in front of me. I didn't look back. The plan was to behave like a leader of a herd: to warn about danger and then to make a safe getaway. The mare neighed hysterically while the stableman was trying to calm her down. I spotted out of the corner of my eye another man running to help his associate. The soft sough of magic, probably some sort of calming spell, went off through the evening air. Then came the scream, rattle of timber and patter of hoofs. I was ready to leap onto the horse any moment. But for some reason she wasn't coming. I nervously looked back. Instead of following my lead the horse ran in the opposite direction. For two or three seconds I was coping with the uncontemplated sutiation. I could be a retard like that sometimes. Especially in uncontemplated sutiations.

"No! Get here, you stupid stub!" I wailed. I wasn't sure I could get away from the furious stable workers with the heavy sack hanging from my shoulders and the Imperial Watch patrolling somewhere nearby. _Okay. Mental note: always make up plan B, idiot._ But the mare didn't listen to me, she was too scared to hear anything but her fucking frightened brain.

"A rustler here! Guards!" _Oh shit. _It was Snak gra-Bura herself. Orcs usually don't do much talking, they have their own ways of dealing with problems. "Stay where you are, little cunt!" She threw an axe in my direction. It swooshed right past my left ear which immediately started to ache more intense even though it wasn't scraped by the axe.

"I SAID GET HERE!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and made way downhill to the City Bridge. Horse or not, staying beside an enraged orc is a lethal risk. Maybe I managed to get the exact wave, because these brays seemed to have some impact on the horse. She slowed down reluctantly. "FRONT AND CENTER, FRIGGING MEATBALL!" The mare trotted to me. _Ugh. Finally. _

She slowed down her pace just enough for me to jump on her, hoist the knapsack over her withers and spur away from the stables as fast as we could. I glanced back: one man was clumsily getting up from the ground and the other was helping him and starring at us. I felt sorry for them. Seriously, I had no wish of bringing them any harm or possible punishment. But I couldn't even afford a horse, for Aetherius' sake! Snak gra-Bura was shaking her fists.

I didn't need reins to control the horse, fortunately, my speaking abilities were enough to point her the directions. The absence of saddle had little clout, too, I was used to go without it.

However, we had a long journey ahead of us, so all these harnesses would be the necessity. After two hours of galloping and trotting we stopped at the farm to the south of City Bridge. The sun was almost behind the horizon, so I decided to spend a night there. The owner of the farm, stubby Imperial with bushy whiskers, agreed to support us with all equine goods required in exchange for two living deers. Well, that was no problem to me. Unlike horses, most deers are extremely dumb.

The next morning me and Meatball, for that was the name I gave to the horse, left the farm equipped with the relatively new ammunition and cantel bags.

The rain had finally fought its way to Cyrodiil. My plan to buy some black henna to dye my hair and Meatball's hide went down the drain, because the only dry places on the road were taverns and there is no way of pulling off such deal without getting unwanted attention.

After several days of alwet travelling I was craving for a dry shelter. Not that I was expecting "WANTED!" posters with my face on them (they hadn't seen much of a face anyway, since I was bandaged), but I had been sheering away from all the ostleries that stood by the road. Sneezing and sniffling, I finally saw a shanty. _Ah, fuck it all_. I needed warmth and poor Meatball was fairly jaded, too.

I tethered her under a shed and entered the inn.

"Well I be a spotted snow bear, a customer!" A Nord behind the counter beamed at me. "Come! Take a sit by the fire! What a weather, huh!"

"Really. What a weather." I muttered. Such warm welcome in such shabby place was a little discouraging. The Nord led me to one of the chairs by the fire. The other one was taken by a middle-aged Redguard. She was smoking a long pipe.

"Hello, stranger. We don't get many visitors around here." She exhaled a wreath. "Makes things pretty lonely for me, if you know what I mean." The Redguard created an impression of a woman once powerful and elegant, now devolved into miserable and drunk. _Possibly my future._

"We got plenty of rooms if you want one." The Nord thrust a cup of saloop into my hands. "Ain't nobody here 'cept old Rufio."

I nearly dropped the cup.

"Er, what was your tavern's name again?"

"Not a tavern, an inn! Inn of Ill Omen. It's a horrible name for an inn, I know. But I just can't bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign."

_Oh, lovely. I've just showed my face to potential witnesses._

"No, I think it's a nice name for an inn." I sipped the saloop. "I want to rent a room for a night. Also my horse needs fresh oat and water."

"By the nine! By the nine!" The Nord seemed to love talking in exclamations. "Sure thing!" And he stormed outside to tend to Meatball.

"Well, well, well." The Redguard drawed down the pipe. "A real company for me, Manheim and Rufio. The only people that stay here are stragglers on the Green Road. What is your name, sweetie?"

"Brook." _Sorry, sister. Damn, I gotta make up a list of names. _"And you?"

"Minerva. Nice to meet you." She raised her pipe a little.

"Is his name Rufio?" I decided to play fool and gave a nod towards the front door, raising my cup in response.

"No, that one's Manheim." She chuckled. "Rufio, well … Not a lot to tell. He doesn't much like company, and spends most of his time in his room. Manheim thinks he's hiding out from someone."

"Oh my."

We were sitting in silence for some time, Minerva smoking and me relishing the heat from the fire and the saloop. The door swept open and Manheim returned, carrying Meatball's wet shabrack.

"She thought your name was Rufio!" Minerva gave a hoarse laugh.

"Nay, ma'am, I'm Manheim. Manheim Maulhand. Rufio's just an old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab." The Nord hung the shabrack over a stick near the hearth and shrugged. "His room is downstairs, in what I like to call the Private Quarters. Use that hatch in the floor over there. But don't expect a warm reception. By the way, how can I call you?"

I blinked._Well, wow. What's wrong with you people? First you tell me he's hiding from someone (me, obviously) and then you recount all the data you have on him. Loose lips sink ships. And kill pavid oldfarts._

"Brook. My name is Brook." I avoided his gaze. _This using sis' name is gettingreally out of hands._

After the dinner which I wouldn't call exactly delicious I went upstairs to my room. The plan I had had in mind was too vague to work. And now, with these two remembering my face, things got even more complicated. Alright, I knew his location. I knew that he was 'feeble'. And also I knew that he knew something's coming for him. Your humble narrator.

There was enough time for me to sharpen the plan of assassination before I heard Minerva returning to her room. Assassination, hmpf. The very sound of the word suited someone like that Luke fellow rather than me. Me? Oh, I was doing plain killing.

It was approximately one hour after the midnight, maybe later. I sneaked back to the first floor and found Manheim sniffing behind the counter. _Poor lad, he even sleeps here._ Being as quiet as possible I took shabrack from the stick and was about to go outside when the damnable door wheezed. I froze on spot, looking at Manheim and not daring to breath. _My perfect plan is not going to be ruined because of the fucking lump of wood._ But the Nord didn't seem to notice the sound of the old door. I cautiously closed it.

Meatball's crib was filled with grains that looked surprisingly fresh. I wondered where Manheim had gotten them here, in the middle of nowhere. _Must be some stock._ The Blade of Woe was in of the cantel bags. As it didn't have any sheath I had wrapped it in a thick cloth. The Blade's sharp razor had torn inner layers of the cloth to pieces. Though the moons were obscured by heavy clouds, the black dagger in my hand was slightly gleaming. Not sparkling, just softly shimmering. I felt an urge to lick it.

"Are you thirsty, Blade, sir?"

The last remains of rain were dripping from the trees. That was no good for us. The Green road was not an example of perfect pavement. It meant Meatball's hoofprints would be quite distinctive on the wet surface, let alone slack of her speed it would cause. _Shit. _I quickly put all the ammunition back on the horse.

"Sorry, baby, no rest for the wicked. We'll be off soon." I patted her neck.

Manheim was still sleeping when I got back to the inn. I crawled downstairs to the basement. _Private Quarters, huh. _Rufio's room was the last. It wasn't even closed. The stench of an old filthy body made me outwind for a little bit. I sneaked up on his bed. Rufio was motionless. _Maybe he's dead already. _I heard the front door opening followed by thudding steps.

"Long time no see, officer!" It was Manheim's voice.

"Ho-o-oly fuck." I spat through set teeth.

The man on the bed snapped his eyes open. _Oh crap. Me and my stupid mouth._

"Who are you? What do you want? I ain't done nothin'!" Rufio raised his hands in attempt to protect himself.

"The Dark Brotherhood says hello." The Blade of Woe almost touched his throat, but Rufio wriggled away with dexterity unexpected of an 'old and weak' man, tumbled from the bed and flocked to the corridor yelling, "No! Please! I didn't mean to do it, you understand me?"

I sprinted after him. _Gods, why my every step in this whole Dark Brotherhood is a total failure? _Rufio whisked to another room, not even trying to close the door behind him.

"She struggled!" He started to bleat, "I… I told her to just stay still, but she wouldn't listen! I had no choice!" He was cornered.

_Another rapist. Not that I mind it, but what in Oblivion this pattern of my victims is? _The noise from the upstairs indicated they had heard Rufio's screams. I was trapped. _Fucking great._ Still, there was no reason why shouldn't cleanse the world of another scumbag.

"Next time shepherd your junk!" Two rapid moves and he drooped down to the pool of his own blood. I felt a little tweak coming from Blade's handle.


	6. Shot at the Night

_Yes. Yes. Yes. _My heart was beating so fast it was almost painful. Pleasingly painful. _Yes! _And for the second time I was flooded with this stunning thrill. _Yes. Sweet Sithis, I need more. It is better than any orgasm._

So it was done. Rufio's dead. Luke would be pleased. _Damn, what it his real name?_ And now my future was settled. Fuck you, Arena. Fuck you, Arts Academy. But first I had to get out of that blasted inn.

I didn't cherish any illusions about fighting an Imperial Watch Officer. However sitting in the 'Private Quarters' like a coward was out of option. They would get me eventually. There was only one way to escape: going bald-headed and run. I grinned. _Oh, help me gods and give me some luck._

With the Blade clenched in my teeth, I ascended a ladder up to the hatch and opened it with a jerk. Amid fears of being shot or chopped I ducked, but there was no need for it. Imperial soldier was about to tug the hatch when I bashed it open. Now he was violently cursing and seizing his bleeding nose. Manheim stared at me with his mouth open. I caught a glimplse of sleepy Minerva peeking out from the stairs.

"Money's in my room!" I shouted as I made a dart for the front door.

The Imperial soldier just flung out of the inn when me and Meatball were already on the dirty greasy road. My hands were slightly shaking.

"Sorry for your nose!" I spurred Meatball. "And your horse!" Maybe I'm bad at making friends with horses, but I'm good at scaring them. One good slap and threatening growl - and his steed was galloping through the woods, deaf to soldier's calls. No way he would find the horse at night.

I laughed while we were moving under wet branches. A small ball of conjured mild yellow light helped us find the way. Now, when the inn was well behind and we could move slower, I was able to ponder over my deed. I couldn't help but smile. Yes, killing Rufio was relatively easy (apart from that moment when I was too stupid and loud). But it's just the beginning. _Holy balls of Arkey, what future awaits me!_ I couldn't wait to meet man in the black cloak again. The forest smelled so good and I was feeling plain euphory. Actually, I wasn't so joyous in a very long time. Maybe it was just an aftermath of a strain on the nerves. And the sky finally started to clear. _Ha! "Shepherd your junk."_ I giggled._I should say something like this every time._

After a while the road divided in two. The right way led to where I had come from: Imperial City. The left one caught my attention earlier, when I was heading to the inn. The morning brought fog, but I still could see some distant light in that direction.

"Let's hope it's a tavern or a farm there and not some will-o-the-wisp trap." I said to Meatball. We turned left.

The lights turned out to be oil lanterns on a tavern's porch. The sigh said "Faregyl Inn". Now when I think of it, going to the tavern closest to the place I had comitted crime at wasn't the most reasonable decision in my life, but I was too winged by my success with Rufio. And I was so tired. I had no sleep for, what, twenty hours?

The innkeeper, a Khajiit woman, was speaking in a strange manner, but I was too busy yawning to concentrate and paid her threefold the usual price for keeping silence about me. Now I was almost completely broke.

The sleep came to me the moment I fell on the wide bed. I didn't even took all my clothes off, just the boots and the cloak.

Shining directly to my eyes, the sun broke my sleep. The L-man in black was sitting by the window.

"Hey." I yawned and gave a little wave of the hand. "How long have you been here?"

"Enough, dear child, to comprehend you have fled hurryingly from the crime scene. What made you stop so close to the Inn of Ill Omen?"

"Oh, I was tired." I closed my eyes. The sun was too bright. _Who in Oblivion does he think he is? I'm not going to report on my actions to him! _"Could you, please, draw the curtains?"

He did not stir, of course.

"Are you fully aware that your sloth could cost you a life?" _Sloth, sure. Please, spare me morning lecturing._

"Listen, it was my canny plan all along, okay?" I rubbed my eyes. "They will never think I'm so nonchalant I stay at the nearest inn. They haven't caught me yet, have they?" I was certainly not afraid of some Watchmen. I could simply hide in the surrounding woods in case fleeing was out of option.

"Fair enough." Notwithstanding he was sitting against the light I could still see his face better now. And I was sober to boot. "So, the deed is done. Rufio lies dead." Dark eyes. Handsome clayey features. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things." Pleasant deep voice. "For you are now part of the family." It was clear as noonday: he was a good old easy rider.

"What's next?" _The faster we get through, the better. _I was very hungry and not fond of long pretentious speeches.

"You embrace your fate. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink." The man smiled briefly.

"What covenant?"

"Know this. Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis."

"Yeah, I read about it."

He frowned a little. _Oh, touchy-touchy._

"And by the way I'm really-really sorry, but I forgot your name."

"Lucien Lachance. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You, Sarynancy Cougar, will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall." My stomach rumbled. "Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."

"Okay. Cheydinhal, Sanguine, Ocheeva. Got it. What is the Black Hand?"

"The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. Also, as a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you must abide by the Five Tenets. They are the laws that guide and protect us." He looked so content explaining all this and reciting the Tenets. "We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following your progress." And he gave me another smile, less severe. "Welcome to the family, Sister."

This time Lachance had decency to depart through the door, however when I opened it a couple seconds later and looked along the hall, I saw nobody.

Abhuki the innkeeper told me no Imperial Watchmen had visited the place during my sleep.

"A nephew I have, sometimes he walks the wrong shadows. Your secret, Mer, is safe with me."

That seemed like a great reason to finally dye me and Meatball to darker colours. Thank gods I had henna suffice for both of us. My uncle Vadour once showed me how to make any powder portable. There was this spell, really simple, which required only a chalk circle on flat and clean surface. You put the needful powder inside the circle, cast a spell - and a small rock of pressed powder is ready to be moved. I am not very good at magic, but can cast some simple spells like this one.

Furthermore, after long grey days of neverending rain Kynareth had finally come to senses and kicked away the clouds. You could not image a better first Hearthfire day. The hoofprints were almost indiscernible on the sunbaked ground.

It was already early evening when I saddled Meatball. Our journey to Cheydinhal began.

"I hope that all other men in the Brotherhood are as hot as this peacock, but not as pompous." I nipped the wine I had bought at the Faregyl for the rest of the money. There would be no need in gold in the nearest future. The henna I added to wine for the sake of experiment appended peculiar bitter taste. "Can you imagine, Meatball, honey, he was calling me 'dear child'!" I snortled.


	7. Colors of a Shade

**Robert Plant – Colors of a Shade**

Slightly chilly days were shortening as I headed north. Here in Cyrodiil we have rather mild weather in comparison to Skyrim, for example. I had never been there, but had heard that even in the warmest regions like Rift summer is like our spring.

The way to Cheydinhal was boringly calm. The rarely met Watchmen paid no attention to me and the Oblivion Gates were nowhere to be seen. Riding through the small villages I heard all sort of talks about them: that they are holes in the sky, that they are really the gates with doors and everything, that they were opened by the Septim family, or by the Arcane University, or by the Psijics, that they are green, black, red, purple, that they lead outside of Aetherius... And that the biggest Gates so far were opened in Kvatch. The town was completely destroyed now. I could only hope that none of my folks were in Kvatch during the invasion. Coya, my village, was closer to Skingrad than to Kvatch, yet sometimes we visited Pock-on-the-Rock, as Tesion called it. Apparently, a perfect sense of humor is a familial thing.

Well, Pock-on-the-rock could go to Oblivion, for all I care. I had my prey-to-play-and-slay.

The bandit, the Bosmer, Aegismoss, the Dunmer and Rufio. Already five.  
How many will I score?

How many Lachance has scored? Dozens? Hundreds?

I decided to keep a record of these fortunate souls. Finally that old journal would come in handy. Using a cipher seemed like an obvious idea, the concept of which was rather easy to create: all words are spelled backwards and written in special symbols, aside from symbols that mean nothing and are randomly inserted into notes for the sake of intricacy. Not the most genius cipher, but quite cannie, I think. I learnt all the symbols after a week of repeating and then burnt all the drafts.

Does anyone else in the Brotherhood keep such diaries? They, or, rather, we must have some sort of recorded accounting system, with all these great incomes.

How much will I be paid, by the way? I heard the members of Morag Tong are rather wealthy. How much does it cost to order someone killed?

KILL! KILL! KILL! Soon the harvest would be arranged.

Why do people consider killing a bad thing? Because everyone wants to survive and the more people are against killing, the less a chance of being killed is. Everyone killing everyone is almost impossible anyway. Almost. While we have the Wild Hunt. Although, I have never been sure if I could be a part of it, with my Imperial blood. I have never been sure if I wanted to be a part of it at all.

They say life is sacred. No, it's not, not in the slightest. Most people don't kill each other because they would feel awful and then would be pursued by the law. So this is a question of selfishness and not of sanctity of life, isn't it? We've all got the power in our hands to kill, but most people would feel deranged and horrible after that. I sure there are people who want to do it. They are just too afraid to act. Well, it's their choice, I'm not going to judge them.

Death is not sacred, either. Ask necromancers, they will tell you about sanctity of death. Death, life... They are just tools.

Nevertheless killing is forbidden by the law, people do it every day, in some cases even legally. For example, at the Arena or Fighters Guild. Why these organisations are any better than the Dark Brotherhood? And the Morag Tong, even stationed in the Morrowind, still do the very same thing and everyone is okay with that.

And then there are people who officially control life and death. I'm talking about kings, healers and midwives.

Also some kill willingly and take pleasure from it. Like me, Lucien Lachance or Owyn from the Arena. And it is selfish, too. So what matters in the end is you life philosophy.

Sometimes good people get killed, but sometimes they have it coming. There a lot of scum in this world. I'm one angry motherfucker and I believe in ultimate justice. I just hope all those who are deserving will get what's coming to them. Even me. Now that would be a great show, wouldn't it? I guess I can be considered bad now. Evil.

_Am I evil? I kill, I steal, I lie, I drink, I destroy._

I was relishing these dark vibes running through me. _Thank you, Lachance. Thank you... Brother._

Have I already coincidentally come across any Brothers or Sisters?

It was the 16th of Hearthfire when I arrived to Cheydinhal. The town was smaller than Skingrad or Kvatch, but very cute, all the dainty bridges, roofs and windows making it appear almost fairytale-like. Even the abandoned house looked abandoned in a fancy way: nattily shattered windows, crevice tracery on plaster, a roof cavity in the foreground, several patches of hogweed on the holding and an ivied well behind the house were surrounded by the crumbled fence. Not locked, but stiff front door uttered a nighly melodious screech. It was much colder inside than outside. Webs hung in tatters everywhere. I could hear some rustles coming from the upstairs. _Might be rats or birds._ The dust covering the floor was disturbed by two lanes: one routing to the second floor and another rightwards, to the basement.

The door to the right opened with no trouble or sounds. The moment I closed it behind me I felt a slight vibration. It was like a beating of a giant heart, steady and bold. My heart, in its turn, was more rather shaking than beating. _Remember, Saryn, you fear nothing._ The deeper I was descending, the stronger that giant heart was beating. I heard a breath, ancient, like Death itself. _Yes, these guys, I mean we, can really create an atmosphere. _Ultimately, when the cold was unbearable and the heartbeat was almost deafening, I saw the Door Lachance had told me about. It wasn't black, though. _Maybe it's the wrong door?_ It was blood orange glowing with red and had an engraving of a woman killing four children an holding one of them, who's probably dead already. _This must be the Night Mother. Oh, now I can see how she loves her children. _I dubiously tugged the knocker.

"What is the color of night?" A waft of wind soughed through the basement .

"Sanguine, my Brother." I forced my voice not to be squeaky.

The Door trembled and budged. I squared shoulders, tidied hair, lifted my chin and threw the Door open.

"Welcome home."

After all the eerie sounds, this phase was really nice to hear. "Thanks."

The wide hall ended in a vast chamber. Lit by numerous torches and decorated with tapestries, it was at least threefold bigger than my house in Coya. The moment I stepped in, a young Argonian girl, followed by the giant rat, approached me.

"Greeting, greeting!" She was beaming. I couldn't help, but to smile back. "I'm Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you! Sarynancy, right?" I nodded. "Let me welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood!" Ocheeva gave my hands a warm clasp. "It is always a pleasure to welcome another Dark Sister into our ranks. Truly, the Night Mother smiles upon her trusted daughters." The rat was busily sniffing my feet like some kind of bizarre dog. "His name is Schemer. And this is our Sanctuary." She waved her hand pointing all round the chamber. "May it serve you as your new home and place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. Now, let me show you what we ..." But she was interrupted by a chubby blond woman.

"I've heard so much about you! Welcome to our Family." The woman hugged me. "My name is Antoinetta Marie. And you are? ..."

_Oh, look, Lilian the Second._

"Sarynancy Cougar." Ocheeva said drily. "I was about to conduct her an excursion over the Sanctuary."

"Welcome, Nancy, dear! So good to finally meet you! I hope you're getting along all right. Ocheeva, I want to conduct this excursion myself. Can you make an exception for once, please?" I was still in the grip of Antoinetta's embrace.

"Fine. But don't make her do anything... quirky. Sarynancy, when you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members."

"Yes, yes, I will explain her everything!" Breton entailed me, leaving Ocheeva with Schemer behind.

Firstly, she showed me the Living Chambers, where I could finally through my knapsack on the bed and then collapse next to it. But Antoinetta didn't let me tap into this little piece of civilization and asked me to try on my new armour. It was a little oversized, so she spend about half an hour girthing and adjusting it until the armour fit perfectly. It was made of thin, but stout black leather and had a lot of useful pockets. Some gear, like grappling hooks and tiny knifes, was presented with the armour.

Antoinetta was all smiles and giggles, blending jokes with tales about contracts.

"Sometimes, right before a kill, Sithis speaks to me. He whispers in my ear and fills my heart with the joy of suffering and death!"

Then she showed me others parts of the Sanctuary and acquainted me with the rest of Family members, who were there at that point in time. They were all extremely friendly, to the point I started to find it suspicious. But it looked like this was the way the things were done here. After all they were family in the best sense of the term and now I was a part of it. I was wondering what was Lachance's behavior like when he's with them. Us. All of my new Brothers and Sisters spoke very highly of him, by the way. _They are so nice, as contrasted with our arrogant boss, I even have no desire to snap. _

I was passed from hand to hand, receiving welcomes and answering their questions ranging from "Do you dye your hair?" to "How old were you when you killed for the first time?" Orc, named Gogron, who asked this question was so impressed with my answer ("Nine or ten, I don't remember quite well.") he was about to give me a smack on the shoulder, but was timely stopped by Telaendril, fellow Bosmer.

Vicente Valtieri took no part in all these frolics and I felt relief when I eventually came to his chamber, shrouded in the remotest part of the Sanctuary.


End file.
